Pride & Prejudice

Chapter Two

The slumping of the bed woke you. Lazily you dragged open your lids and stared at the wide back of your husband. He was bent over, tugging off his boots, slapping them down on his side of the bed this time. You reached out and skimmed your fingers over his warm tunic. The straightening of his back, the stilling of his hands. These clues, familiar after your months together, pointed to Thorin being annoyed. What he was irked at puzzled you.

"Thorin," you croaked. His head barely moved to acknowledge you.

"What's wrong?" You pulled yourself up a little resting back on the pillows.

"You were absent from dinner." His voice was monotone, every word clipped and annunciated as though he were holding back other words.

"I'm sorry, but I just didn't feel like it tonight." You stretched out to touch him once more, and he shifted sideways, out of reach.

"I know this time is hard for you, but all I asked of you was one night. One night to attend dinner. You knew how important this night was."

You shook your head. "What was so important about tonight?"

You searched your memory. Nothing was said to you. You were sure of it. If it were that important, it would be in your diary. You recorded all important meetings in there so you wouldn't forget.

"All I wanted was for you to be there to greet the party from the Blue Mountains."

To hear Thorin's disappointed tone, to watch the dismal shake of his head, urged you into alertness.

"I swear to you," you defended, "I didn't know about the dinner tonight. Hath never said anything."

"From her account, you never gave her a chance. Your maid told me how you snapped at her and ordered her from our room."

"I…" You thought carefully about what happened. Did you snap at her? You thought you'd been mildly pleasant, albeit still half asleep.

"I don't want to hear your excuses. All I wanted was for this night to go right. For my sister to meet you. Not for us to be left waiting and informed by a hysterical servant you would not be attending."

Thorin turned and leant into you, one hand braced on the carved headboard beside you. "Do you have any idea what impression you gave my sister?" His face screwed tight and narrowed eyes prompted you to sit up. You rubbed your face, unsure what to do. All you could say was the truth. "Thorin, no one told me about tonight. I swear to you."

He hauled back and flew from the bed around to your side of the room. Marching over to the window and your overly large desk, he snatched up a letter.

"You had no idea about tonight?" He stormed back waving the parchment in his fist. "This missive, written in my own hand, informs you of your attendance."

You reached for the letter, and he dropped it in your lap, snatching it up you read the words printed in his fine cursive writing.

"I haven't seen this. When was it sent?"

"Two weeks ago."

Your glare shot up to meet his, "That's not possible."

"So, I'm lying now?" His brows climbed higher, eyes wide at your accusation. His lips shifted into a sneer. "As usual, everyone else is at fault except you?"

"No," you shouted and instantly regretted it. A pounding took up residence above your right ear. Clenching your eyes shut against the spiking ache you tried to explain. "Thorin, I'm not calling anyone a liar. I… I just don't remember receiving this. I'm sorry, truly."

He sighed through his nose, his shoulders slumping, hands hanging loosely at his thighs, his head bowed in defeat. "It makes no difference. The damage is done, and I see no way to correct it. Your lack of attendance is considered a sign of disrespect to my people."

"Thorin," you teased, trying to lighten the moment. You gazed up at him through your lashes. "It's dinner, not negotiations for nuclear disarmament. I'll meet your sister for breakfast. I'll get this sorted. Surely, your sister can remember what it feels like to be pregnant."

Thorin glowered at you, "Aye, my sister remembers, as do I." He growled the words, stepping closer. "I remember her attending every meeting and meal. Welcoming dignitaries and acting on my behalf in negotiations through two pregnancies, without so much as a single complaint about her tiredness, her sickness, her feet aching — Everything, that you use as an excuse to shirk your duties as Queen."

You stared at your husband. You'd both been through many trials in your relationship. Never, though, had you been given any reason to doubt his love and respect for you. Never had you thought he could say something deliberately cruel as this. His cutting remarks were always well-aimed, but never like this.

This wasn't Thorin shouting and bawling like your usual arguments. This was your husband uttering spiteful words in a tone that said he believed every word he spoke.

"That's not fair." You slid your legs off the bed twisting your body, pushing away the pillow that was curled into your side. Your bright yellow dress twisting around your legs, you yanked at the uncomfortable material to dislodge it.

"And yet, you believe your actions this night have been fair?" His voice was clipped and sharp once more. "You find humiliating me in front of my family to be fair?"

You looked into his face, blue eyes dulled to a flat grey by his scowl and pleaded, "I've said I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can say?" Inside you, there was a familiar coldness seeping its way through your body. You shivered from it and dropped your gaze to the murky brown floor slabs.

"Perhaps an offer that you will at least try to do better."

You closed your eyes at his indifferent tone. "I'll try to do better," you agreed.

You waited for an answer of some sort. His brisk expulsion of breath coming out in a hiss seemed to be his reply. You didn't see Thorin move only felt him slump down on the other side of the bed. The heavy rustle of clothes being discarded the only sound in the room.

Inching off the bed, rubbing your midriff beneath your breasts to dispel the chill you made for your wardrobe and the drawers held within. Pulling out a nightdress, you didn't stop to look at the lump ensconced under the covers with his back to you.

Inside your bathing suite, you slipped the latch across locking the door and slid down beside the large metal bathtub.

A tear traversed your cheek, dripping off your chin and onto your bodice. Pulling your knees up, laying your cheek on them you let the tears trickle free over the bridge of your nose. Meanwhile, the cold inside you steadily turned into numbness.

You weren't sure how long you were in the bathroom. You didn't want to leave until Thorin was asleep. His words constantly circling around your brain. Every so often you would press your ear to the door, but the thick wood prevented you from hearing anything.

Finally, you changed into your nightgown and sat on the edge of the bath, deciding to give it another ten minutes. There was a little voice inside you that kept asking what was wrong with you.

If this was a week ago, or even a few days ago, you would have bitten Thorin's head off. Called him a 'Prick' and verbally battered the dwarf. If of course, it had been any day except this one. This one day where everything rose up to challenge and torment you.

It was too much right now. You couldn't be a Queen and have all this horrible emotional baggage floating around inside you. The part you'd thought once gone, the part that helped you survive for eight months back home, came back to life. You could feel nothing. You decided it was the only way you would survive life in Erebor.

Standing up, you moved to the door and shifted the latch. Opening it a fraction, the jaundiced light of your bedroom came into bleary-eyed view. Deep breaths greeted you as you slipped out and pushed the door closed.

Creeping over to the bed you stood there, watching Thorin's sleeping body. Right now, you wanted him holding you. His strong, capable hands stroking your arms or back.

Looking around the room at your wardrobe next to Thorin's. Your desk by the long block of windows intersected by lead. The curtains you'd had made to frame them. You felt you were a stranger in this room, now. It was like staying at one of those motorway hotels, all ridiculous luxury, but never truly home. Even the room in Margaret's house had begun to feel comfortable.

Everything you'd shared, the laughter, the tears, the intimacy of lovemaking, the conceiving of a child, all seemed like it belonged to someone else. You were now some dreary voyeur who never truly belonged here.

Decision made you about turned and headed to the main door, there was a bedroom at the end of the corridor. You thought it might have been a servant's room long ago. It held a small bed and wardrobe, a little stand in the corner held a porcelain bowl.

No matter what its use had once been, it was empty and had a good lock on the door. You disappeared inside, climbing on the single bed. It wobbled on its rickety legs, creaking a protest of having a body laying in it after all these years.

You closed your eyes, hoping then wishing that if you lay there long enough, you'd eventually fall asleep. It seemed even hopes and wishes were indifferent to you.